Florimel of Amber
by Xanderlike
Summary: Flora wasn't as loved as Deirdre. As powerful as Fiona. As noble as Llewella. But even at the beginning, she was a Princess of Amber. References to sexual assault, but mostly concerned with how Flora and Eric became close.
1. Chapter 1

One of the first things a child of my father must learn is to know her own strengths … and her weaknesses. This is a necessary thing not just because it is wisdom in of itself, but because our siblings will inevitably make use of both our abilities and our liabilities in order to achieve their goals. It is not always a pleasant thing to discard our illusions, but it is necessary if one intends to survive long in Amber.

And if I am nothing else, I am a survivor.

I am Florimel, Princess of Amber.

You may have heard of me, but I doubt that little of what was said was complimentary.

I understand this. I would be a liar if I said that it pleased me (and of course you know I'm a liar), but I know the reasons for it. I cannot profess to have many virtues (not with a straight face, anyway), but I have always taken pride in the fact that I see who and what I am when I look in the mirror.

No matter how the Shadows try to lie for me.

Bear with me. Like so many of my siblings, I am in love with the sound of my own voice. I like to imply that my long centuries of existence have imparted to me wisdom unknown and unknowable to mortals.

Of course, that's a lie.

In my experience, time in of itself does not impart wisdom. Experience, yes. Knowledge—if one chooses to seek it. But wisdom …

I have known fools who have lived for thousands of years, and children who still had their baby teeth who were far wiser than I.

But I digress …

I was about to speak of my virtues …

The first of those, of course, is frank self-appraisal.

Yes, I am beautiful … but then as a daughter of Amber that is not particularly noteworthy in of itself. Deirdre with her long dark hair, with that pale skin, with those eyes that so many men had lost themselves in (including Corwin) was at least as lovely as me. And to those who were not of our family—to those she had no reason to guard herself against—she was the kindest of creatures.

I am too much my father's daughter to feign things I do not feel, and I never shared her compassionate nature.

So I never tried.

And after a time, no one expected me to.

There were times when I envied Fiona. She has beauty (again, like all of us) and also a sharp intellect. Her knowledge is deep, her words are subtle—she has that knack for saying just the right thing … the sort of cutting remark that never occurs to me until long after the conversation is over and it does me no good.

Understand. I am not stupid, but I could spend a thousand years of study and I would never be one tenth the sorceress that Fiona is. Everyone would laugh their asses off if I had ever once expressed a belief that I could ever be as intelligent or talented as Fiona.

Of course not. I am Flora, the least of Amber's princesses. The youngest of Oberon's daughters, and the one that could never aspire to be anything other than a pretty face.

And then there is Llewella. Sweet, tragic Llewella. Llewella, the just. Llewella the noble. Llewella who was too good for Amber … too pure to partake in the intrigues of the Royal Family.

Daddy respected her for that.

He did not express disappointment in her failure to serve Amber. He did not demand obedience or service from her. No … Llewella was not passive … Llewella was not weak … she was PURE.

As I never was.

Daddy made sure of that.

When I had just turned fourteen, Daddy took me on a shadow walk with him. I had yet to walk the Pattern myself, and until that time I had never been alone with my father for more than ten minutes. I imagined that I had said or done something that had finally made him take notice of me, and I fancied that now he would see to my instruction in the arts of Shadow himself …

He didn't.

No, Daddy taught me well that day, but not the lessons I had hoped for.

I won't go into the details of our Shadow Walk. It's not that I don't recall them—it's just something I try not to think about too much.

We wound up in some little shadow that had taken his fancy before. The king there was much like my father—bigger than life, charming when he cared to be—and I suppose he was handsome in his rude fashion.

Daddy gave me to him.

It was a swap, you see. Daddy badly wanted this king's daughter, and the only way that he could find a way into her bed would be if he gave the king measure for measure. My innocence for his daughter's. A fair trade, if you will.

I clutched at his arm. I clung to his belt as he seized the other poor girl's wrist and led her off. When entreaties and commands failed to compel my obedience, he slapped me.

No, let's be honest here.

He _hit__ me._

I was still screaming for him when the king shut the door.

Later, after he had taken his pleasure from me, the king grew angry at me. He was angry that I had not been moved by his love making prowess. He was furious that I would not stop crying.

And like my father, he hit me.

He would have beaten me to death, I think, if I had not been a daughter of Amber. Even as a girl, even as a child, I had a strength that no shadow could hope to match—I learned that lesson that day too.

So did the king … though it was not a lesson that served him particularly well as I strangled him to death shortly after I realized that I could.

It was at that point that I decided that I wanted to live.

Sooner or later, the king's men would break through the door and they would find us. I could not yet walk in Shadow on my own. Daddy would be of no help to me—if he had not saved me before I had no reason to think he would do so now.

But I had one thing left to me. One faint hope.

When I clutched at Daddy's belt I had managed to steal one of his Trumps. I knew how to use one … it was one of the few things I had been taught.

The Trump I had? The Trump that I pinned my faint hopes of survival on?

Eric's.


	2. Chapter 2

Eric would not have been my first choice.

It's not that I disliked him. I didn't know him. He was already grown and I had only seen him on formal occasions.

He was family, but he was a stranger.

Why couldn't it have been Gerard's card? I knew Gerard—at least well enough to know that he would come get me if I asked for him. He was the only one I felt like I could count on.

But I didn't have Gerard's card. I had Eric's.

"Yes, what is it? Wait… who is this? Florence?"

"Florimel. Not Florence. I'm your little sister, Eric."

He was handsome. Possibly the best looking of all my brothers—even more so than Corwin. "I know you're my sister, Florimel. What are you doing with my Trump? What do you want from me?"

He sounded annoyed. He sounded angry.

I looked away from him … and it was then he must have seen the bruises on my neck.

"Florimel … Flora." His voice had turned gentle. I know you might not think that Eric could be gentle (I certainly hadn't until that moment) but he certainly could when he had reason to be so. "Flora, where are you? What happened?"

I told him.

His eyes grow angry again, but not at me. I don't know how I can explain that I knew it was not at me, but I knew it was so. "Oberon, you sick twisted …" He trailed off. "Flora, I'm going to bring you home through my Trump."

"I don't know how …"

"It's all right, little sister. I won't let anything happen to you. Not ever again. Just trust me."

I had trusted Daddy. I didn't want to trust Eric. I didn't want to trust anyone else ever again.

But I didn't have a choice.

"Take my hand, Flora. Take my hand and come to me."

I reached out and felt his hand take mine.

And then I was back in Amber and my big brother was holding me.

I cried then.

He wrapped his cloak around me, around my torn gown. "Do you want to walk or should I carry you?"

"Where are we going?"

"You need to see a doctor …"

"No! No doctor! I can't—they can't know what happened! No one can know!"

He frowned for a moment. "Okay. No doctor. Deirdre. Our sister. She'll take good care of you."

"You're leaving me?"

Yes, I sounded weak and pathetic—even to my own ears. But I couldn't help it. Somehow I felt safe in Eric's arms—and I didn't think I'd ever feel safe anywhere else.

"No. I'm not leaving you, Flora." He smiled then. "But you need more help than I can give. Come on."

He led me into one of the secret passages—the castle in Amber is littered with secret passages though I didn't know it until Eric showed me—and we came out near Deirdre's rooms.

"Eric?" It was night in Amber, and even though she had been sleeping she looked impossibly beautiful to me. "Who—Florimel?"

"Inside." Still holding my hand, Eric pushed his way past her and into her rooms. He sat me down on one of her couches. "Stay here, Flora. We'll just in the next room."

I nodded numbly.

I looked at my hands while they talked. My hands that I had used to kill a man. I could hear them talking, but not make out the words.

When they were done, Deirdre came out and told me that she was going to take care of me. She poured me a cup of wine and put something in it.

Maybe it was poison. I hoped it was poison. I was sick with fear. I just wanted it to all go away.

"Drink this, Flora." She gave me the cup and looked over at Eric. "Everything will be better in the morning."

I took the cup and drank deeply. Almost immediately, I felt myself getting drowsy. "No nightmares?" I pleaded.

"No nightmares, Flora." She kissed my forehead.

I closed my eyes and let Deirdre carry me to bed. I felt her hands gently remove my ruined garments and clothe me in one of her own gowns. I felt her tears fall on my face as she cleaned me up.

"He has to pay for this," Eric whispered angrily. "She's just a child."

"He's king, Eric. He has powers that we can't dream of—powers we can't face."

"I don't care. He let this happen—he MADE this happen. It's not right, Deirdre."

"No, it's not, but getting yourself killed in a spat with Father isn't going to help her either, Eric."

"Deirdre…"

"Use your head, Eric. We have to protect her now—make sure that Father never allows this sort of thing to happen again."

"You're the one who told me not to confront him."

"Not directly. But there are things that we can do. First, though, we take care of Florimel and make sure she's okay. I'll speak to our sisters."

"Our sisters? Why?"

"Because they're women, Eric. Regardless of his feelings, Benedict won't endanger the peace of the Realm over one girl even if she is our sister. Julian, Bleys, and Caine wouldn't take it seriously. Gerard would get himself killed confronting Father. Corwin … he would side with Father simply because this is something you care about."

"You think he would oppose your will in this?"

"Let's not put him to the test. I will talk to our sisters and see what advice they have to offer."

"Fine." I heard a chair being pulled up to the bed.

"What are you doing, Eric?"

"I told her that I wouldn't leave her. A Prince of Amber always keeps his word."

"There are battles you can't win with a sword, Eric."

"Perhaps not. But I made a promise to her." I felt him take one of my hands. "And as long as I live, I will keep it."

And for the first times since Daddy had struck me, I felt safe.

I let sleep claim me.


	3. Chapter 3

In the morning, Eric was gone.

It hurt me.

Already I had come to depend on his promise to keep me safe, and without him I felt bereft, vulnerable—_weak_.

"Good morning, Florimel."

It wasn't Deirdre. It was another of my sister's. Fiona.

Fiona scared me.

And to this day, she still does.

"Eric—" I knew I shouldn't have let my first word be his name—I might as well have put a sign around my neck that said, _I'm Florimel—and I'm helpless!_—but I couldn't stop myself.

"Eric has duties to attend to this morning, Florimel." She looked at me with those hard, disapproving eyes. "And you would do well to remember that. He's a Prince of Amber—a son of our father. Do not count on him too much."

"Or you either?" I hated being in bed while she stood before me clothed and composed, and undoubtedly knowing what was done to me the night before. I despised myself for feeling so much like a child.

The ghost of a smile touched her lips. "You're learning. Good. Deirdre had your clothing fetched for you. Dress and we will speak later."

"Daddy—" I couldn't keep the fear out of my voice.

"Our father is currently preoccupied with his own difficulties. It will be some time before he returns home, and when he does we will be ready for him."

Had my actions rebounded on Daddy? Was he being blamed for the murder of my rapist?

I felt a surge of savage pleasure at the thought.

_Good._

"Dress, Florimel. We have time, but not so much time that it should be wasted." She gave me another look. "I am taking valuable time from my studies to help you. Do not make me regret it."

"I'm sorry, sister—"

"Irrelevant. Do not waste time for things you have no control over, little sister." She reached out and took my hand. "Because you are young, I will give you what I would never share with another sister: advice. _Never _apologize to one of your siblings. Even if you feel that you should. Especially if you feel you should." She squeezed my hand and then let it go. "I'll be waiting."

"Will Deirdre be there?"

"She's out riding. With Corwin. Do not expect her return before lunch." She left.

I ached when I got out of the bed, but my bruises were already faded. Amberites heal much quicker than those of Shadow, and I knew that in a day or two no one else would ever be able to tell I had been beaten.

The bruises would fade quickly, but the memories … not so much.

But I could not hide in Deirdre's bed forever. I was a Princess of Amber. My childhood was gone, but my life remained. I had decided in that dead king's bed that I would live—and no matter what was required of me, I would survive.

I chose my favorite gown—how Deirdre who had spoken to me all of two times in my life before last night knew which one was my favorite I had no clue—and dressed myself and arranged my hair just so.

Clad once more in my gray and green, I was myself once more—or at least as much of myself as I could expect to be under the circumstances. I took a deep breath, and walked out of the bedroom and back into the light.

Fiona was sitting at a table breaking her fast. She gestured for me to join her, and I did so. There was a lot of food on the table, but not so much when we finished. I was surprised that I had such an appetite after everything, but I had not eaten since Daddy and I had left Amber the night before.

When I was finished, I looked at my sister.

"What was done to you was wrong, Florimel. You bear no blame in it. You have been wronged, and we—your other sisters and I—will do what we can to make sure that you receive justice."

"Deirdre said Daddy—that Father—was too powerful. That there was nothing we could do."

"Correction. There's nothing Eric can do, or any of our brothers with the possible exception of Brand. Our brothers tend to solve all their problems with a sword, little sister, and there are times when a blade cannot resolve all your difficulties. We cannot overwhelm Oberon with force, but we can shame him—and obtain his sacred oath to never do such a thing again."

"Why would he do it again? I'm ruined now." In those days, to a girl of my age, what was done to me, what was taken from me, shamed me forever. No king or emperor would want a wife who was no longer pure. I was damaged goods.

"You are _not_ ruined, Florimel. You are more than that. Or I should say you _can_ be more than that." She looked at me speculatively. "Do you want to be? Do you want to be a fairytale princess who must count on others for her rescue and hope for a happy ending—or do you want to be a Princess of Amber and make your own destiny?"

I knew what she was asking me.

I had been used. I had been abused. By the one person I should have been able to trust over all others. My own Father. He had not traded my innocence for the peace or prosperity of the kingdom. He had sold me for nothing more than a chance to do to that man's daughter what had been done to me.

I had two choices.

I could submit to Father's will upon his return. I could do what he told me. If I did that, I would be safer. Quite possibly I would live longer.

But I would no longer be me.

Or I could oppose him. I could declare that I would be no one's victim, no one's tool. Knowing that to do so might mean my death—and probably a long, nasty death it would be.

I closed my eyes and thought of those things. I do not flatter myself to think that my courage is any more exceptional than my wit.

But in the end, there was only one answer I could make.

I opened my eyes and looked into hers.

"I am Florimel," I whispered. "And I would be a Princess of Amber."


	4. Chapter 4

Before she left to resume her studies, Fiona made a gift to me of two things. The first was her Trump. The second was a dagger that could be concealed within the sleeve of my gown. "The first so you can call on me if you should need to- the second so that you will never have to call on anyone else ever again."

"Thank you, sister."

"You're welcome, Florimel." She gave me a frosty smile. "Do not assume that I will always aid you. Nor even Deirdre. You have chosen to be a Princess of Amber, and there will be times in the future when we will be at cross purpose." Again the frosty smile. "But in this matter your sisters will stand with you. There are things that should never be done- to anyone."

I nodded my head again. At this point I realized that if I continually thanked her for her advice she would always consider me weak, and that was something that I would not countenance. A Princess of Amber must never display weakness- not even to a sister.

_Especially_ not to a sister.

"Llewella said that she would also speak to you today, Florimel. She is waiting for you in the garden. I would not advise you to keep her waiting."

"It was a pleasure seeing you again, sister." I smiled at her. Even at that age, I already had my smile perfected.

Fiona smiled back at me without even realizing she was doing so. I am reasonably sure that she went away from our meeting with the idea that I was at best a lovable halfwit (and compared to her I probably am), but even if I failed to impress her I had at least managed to win something in the way of protection from her.

And when you're dealing with Fi, if you can walk away without having lost something you're ahead of the game. Her ambition has always matched her intellect, and she has the best mind of the family- _including _Father. Things might have turned out very differently for us all if Father had recognized that.

Of course I'm telling you things you probably already know if you've read Brother Corwin's memoirs. His memory is less reliable at times, but in general he told the truth insofar as he knew it. (And yes, that does mean that I'm neither the most lovable or the cleverest of our family. Though to be fair I am also not the _least_ clever or the _most _unlovable either.)

I had often walked through the palace (that word means less to me than it does to you) and made my way to the garden to play childish games. I had often run through these halls, teasing the guards and the maids, but that was in the past. I smiled at them to be sure, but I walked with as much grace as I could muster. I was no longer a child; I was a Princess of Amber. And while a Prince of Amber could whore around with the maids and trade filthy jokes with the guards, we did not have that luxury.

Even so, I watched them out of the corner of my eyes. I was sure that they could see my shame. That just by looking they knew that I had been dishonored. I was positive that they were judging me with their eyes, mocking me with their smiles. By the time I reached the garden it was all I could do to avoid breaking into a run.

I did not want to think about what had happened, but it seemed determined to creep into my thoughts. The king who had ravaged me was dead, but it seemed like his memory would haunt me forever.

(Just so you know, it doesn't. I have not forgotten, but that memory does not diminish me now. That incident does not define my life. I am more than that. I was more than that then, but it took me time to realize that.)

I walked to the center of the garden and sat down by the unicorn fountain. I had never seen a live unicorn, and I was positive that now I never would. I closed my eyes for a moment.

"Florimel."

I knew that voice. Not well. But I knew it.

It was Llewella. My other sister.

She was lovely. (Of course.) Her hair was as green as her eyes. And she seemed somehow sad and wistful.

She was a Princess of Amber … and she wasn't. The blood of our father flowed in her veins and gave her power over Shadow, but to this day I don't know if she has ever used it. She rarely came to Amber … and seldom stayed any longer than was absolutely necessary.

And today she had come for my sake.

I was … moved.

"Llewella. Sister." I curtsied to her. "It is an honor to meet you."

"Be at easy, Florimel." She smiled faintly. "We are not at court." She sat down beside me.

"You know."

"Yes."

"Everyone knows, don't they?"

"Not everyone. Deirdre was discrete." She took my hand in hers. "No one thinks less of you for what has happened, Flora."

I choked back a sob- and then I wrapped my arms around her neck and cried.

Llewella held me and murmured softly into my ear. It was the closest thing to a mother's embrace I had ever known or would ever know. (In this I am not alone. Oberon seldom kept one wife for any length of time- and the type of woman that he attracted tended to not be overly blessed with maternal instinct. My nursemaid was dear to me, but she had been given new duties once my cycles began.) I held onto Llewella as though my life depended on it.

She held me until I had cried myself out and then washed my face with water from the fountain. "You are still Flora. No matter what was done to you, you remain Florimel. No one can take that from you."

"Daddy- Father can. He can give me to another man- and another after that. He can do whatever he wants and no one will stop him because he is King in Amber."

"He is King in Amber, and he is powerful." Llewella smiled gently at me. "But you do not have to remain in Amber."

"What?"

"You could come with me to Rebma. You would be safe there."

"Rebma … I had heard of it all my life. The mirror image of Amber. A beautiful city in the sea. A city ruled by a woman who did not bow her head to Oberon …

No.

"I can't do that. I won't do that." I smiled at her. "Thank you for the offer, sister, but I am Florimel of Amber. I would cease to be Florimel if I went to Rebma."

Llewella smiled. "I expected that response from what Eric said."

"Eric?" I pounced on his name. I couldn't help myself. "Eric spoke of me?"

Llewella smiled. "Yes. He was there when Deirdre asked that I give you sanctuary."

"What did he say?"

"He said that you were too much a Princess of Amber to give way to fear." She slid her hand through my hair. "You are stronger than you know, Flora."

"Not strong enough. Not against Father. No one is stronger than Father."

"Oh I wouldn't say that." Llewella smiled at me. "There is one power that even Oberon respects. One voice that he will- if not obey- at least listen to."

"And who would that be?" I asked.

"Dworkin."

Dworkin. Grand Architect of the Pattern. Dworkin. The creator of the Trumps. The one who instructed the Royal Family in all the ways of Shadow.

Dworkin, our grandfather.

I did not know that then. I do not think that anyone knew. (Other than Father, of course.) Fi would have it that she knew all along, but then Fiona is not above stretching the truth if the alternative is to admit ignorance of any kind.

"Dworkin might be able to help me, but _will _he?"

Llewella smiled at me. "That is your next task, Princess of Amber. If you would hope to stand against Oberon than you must ally yourself with Dworkin."

"How can I do that?" I had met Dworkin. He had begun to instruct me in the ways of the Trumps and Shadow. The things that I would need to know before I dared to try to walk the Pattern and gain the power over Shadow that was my birthright.

He scared me.

And he was not overwhelmed with admiration for me either.

"You will have to impress Dworkin. Do that, and he will speak for you."

"Impress Dworkin?"

She nodded at me.

"Me?"

She nodded again.

I sighed.

At that point, a life in exile was starting to look better to me …

But no.

I _was _a Princess of Amber. I would rise to the challenge of impressing Dworkin and earning my Father's respect.

No one would ever abuse me again.

_No one._

Not even Oberon himself.

"Very well, sister." I stood up and squared my shoulders. "If that is the only way I can remain Florimel, than I will do it. I will earn Dworkin's cooperation."

I did not add, "Or die trying."

But I thought it.

Oh how I thought it.


	5. Chapter 5

After I left Llewella I went to one of the palace armories and found a wrist strap for the dagger that Fiona had given me. There was a young soldier in charge- one scarcely older than I was- and at my urging he showed me the trick of dropping the dagger into my hand with a simple motion. I practiced several times before I left until I felt satisfied with my ability to unleash my new weapon at the need.

And I thanked the soldier with a kiss.

To say that he was quite pleased was an understatement. I knew that it was somewhat of a reckless thing for me to do- again, a Prince of Amber had privileges that a Princess never would- but I _wanted_ to. I wanted to kiss him because he was young, and he was kind, and when he looked at me I did not feel shame.

I felt _beautiful_ again.

I think of that as my first kiss. What that brute of a king did- and his name will never pass from my lips because I refuse to give that wretch the honor of a name- was not a kiss. I would not be defined by that monster- not by who he was, what he did- any longer.

So I left young Roger behind and went back to my rooms where I spent the next hour or two practicing with my dagger and pondering how I could possibly impress Dworkin enough to win his respect and cooperation against Daddy.

I was smart enough- even then- to know that I would never be clever enough to impress Dworkin with my intellect. He had proven himself immune to my girlish charms- he had never once smiled at my antics which had always enchanted my other instructors. I had displayed nothing of Fi's mastery of sorcery to earn his praise.

I was simply Florimel, and that did not seem sufficient to accomplish my goals.

My sisters had given me advice, but I did not expect to obtain any more aid from them than had already been given. Like it or not, in this I would be on my own.

I wracked my brain for a solution but nothing plausible seemed to come to me.

My door swung open and a giant figure of a man stood there. "Flora!" he cried in a booming voice.

My dagger flipped into my hand as if by magic and I hurled it at the giant without thinking.

It went straight into the heart of – the large doll that my brother Gerard of Amber was carrying with him.

"Well," he said in the shocked silence between us as I realized that I had almost killed him, "you could have just told me you didn't like dolls any longer."

There is not much my family agrees on- from our relative ages, to the order of succession- to who can make the best waffles. Get us together and not one of us will share an opinion with the others- on principal.

There is one exception to that rule.

Gerard is the best of us.

We all agree on that.

He was the closest of my brothers to me in age at the time, but he was already a man with centuries behind him. He wore blue and gray, and he belonged to the sea more than anywhere else. And of all my family, he was the one who knew me best. He is by no means a genius- but he is in no way stupid either. Gerard is open. Gerard is kind. Gerard is loyal.

And if not for his ability to walk in Shadow the rest of the family would doubt that he was a true son of Oberon at all for those wonderful qualities of his. Unicorn knows Oberon had never been renowned for his compassion.

Gerard had made of a point of visiting on my birthday from the very first one that I had. No matter what he was doing- or whether he was off in Shadow- he would find a way to be with me on my birthday. He was the only member of my family that had ever felt like family until Daddy's actions of the night before.

"Was that blade a gift from our father?" Gerard asked me as he placed the doll he had brought me on the floor. "I heard he took you on your first jaunt through Shadow."

I flinched. "No. Fiona gave it to me."

"Oh really? How nice of our sister to remember you on your birthday." Gerard sat down on one of my chairs which creaked alarmingly under his weight. "Tell me all about your journey. Where did Father take you?" He touched my cheek at the sudden tears that came to my eyes. "Flora? What's wrong?"

I was so tempted to tell him the truth.

I trusted Gerard. I knew he would fight on my behalf. I knew he would avenge my honor- even if that meant facing Daddy himself. He was just _that_ good.

And I knew without a doubt that Daddy would kill him without a second thought.

Before last night I would not have had such thoughts. I would have reacted like a child and done what would make me feel better. But I was no longer a child.

Daddy had seen to that.

So I did the one thing that I had never done to Gerard:

I lied.

"Nothing's wrong, Gerard. I'm fine. It was just- I never imagined Shadow would be like that. How was your latest voyage? Thank you for the doll. I love it." I picked the doll up and hid my eyes in its hair so he would not see the tears in my eyes again.

Gerard loved to talk of his voyages- the places that he had been, the things that he had seen. I had always enjoyed listening to him and it almost made me feel _normal_ again.

"Now that you're growing up I'll have to take you on a sea voyage through Shadow. It's not the same as making the journey on land. You'll enjoy it." He laughed. "Perhaps someday you'll captain one of our ships yourself."

I smiled at the thought thought though even then I knew that wasn't too likely. In Oberon's Amber women were seldom allowed any position of power. "When I walk the Pattern will you be there for me, Gerard?"

"Of course. Wouldn't miss it for the world." He smiled at me. "But you've got years before you have to worry about that. You're far too young to be thinking about that now."

"Who was the youngest to walk the Pattern?" An idea was beginning to form in the back of my mind. I didn't necessarily like it, either.

"Corwin. You're supposed to be at least 18 before you walk the Pattern, but he snuck in the night before his birthday. He was bound and determined to show up Eric by doing it younger than he did. He even projected himself into Father's throne room before the entire Court when he was finished." Gerard chuckled. "Eric had a cow."

I found myself smiling at the thought even though part of me wanted to leap to Eric's defense.

He effortlessly pulled the dagger from the heart of the doll and handed it back to me. "If Fi's going to be handing you a dagger perhaps I should get you a sword. Nothing wrong with a young woman being able to defend herself."

"That would be very thoughtful of you, Gerard," I said politely even though I did not enjoy fencing at all. If I had to kill someone, I would prefer to be as far away from it as possible- one of the reasons I enjoyed archery.

(Though that doesn't mean I regretted strangling the toad king. Looking back on it, I'm glad that I did strangle the life out of him. Some things really require the personal touch … executing your rapist is definitely one of them.)

He smiled. "Perhaps you would enjoy a ball instead."

"What?"

"A ball. You know one of those things with music and dancing. I hear they're very popular with young women."

I actually smiled at that idea. "Yes, I would love to go to a ball. But there isn't going to be one for months ..."

"There will be one tonight."

"What? How do you know?"

"Because I'm throwing it. In honor of my little sister's birthday." Gerard smiled at me. "And we'll all be there. Even Father ..."

"Daddy," I swallowed hard. "How … nice. I was under the impression that he was still off in Shadow ..."

"He was. He had me bring him back to Amber by Trump just a few minutes ago." Gerard smiled wryly. "He must have had quite the time- I've seldom seen him look so … disheveled."

"I bet," I said savagely, my anger momentarily overcoming my fear.

Gerard looked at me curiously.

I forced a smile back onto my face. "Thank you, Gerard."

He shrugged. "It's just a ball. It's no great thing to do for my favorite little sister."

I smiled. "I'm your only little sister." (It's true. All the rest of our sisters were older than Gerard.)

"Doesn't mean you're not my favorite." He smiled.

I hugged him then. "I love you, Gerard."

"I love you too, Flora." He hugged me back.

It has been many years since I said those words to Gerard. I want you to know that I meant them with all my heart. I still do. He was- he is- the best of us.

And if the insane idea I had didn't work- if I didn't make it- I wanted him to know that I _did_ love him.

Because I knew I had run out of time.

I had no choice. Only one hope. And if I failed it would kill me.

I was going to walk the Pattern.


End file.
